Insanity
by Cody'sxFavoritexGirl
Summary: Dean Ambrose has always been different. The only people he gets along with are his Shield brothers, even if the three of them do tend to butt heads. Still, the ties between the Hounds of Justice are strong, and when those bonds are threatened by the powers-that-be, the fangs are bared and the claws come out. A bubbly Diva getting thrown into the mix only further complicates things.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a fic that is going to be in line with RonTheRonin's Roman Reigns fic "Pride". To understand this one, you need to go and read his fic alongside mine. There will be a Seth Rollins one added somewhere along the line as well, to complete the trio. These fics will go hand-in-hand with each other, so it's important that you read all of them. My Dean muse was pitching a fit in my head, so here's my contribution. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 1**

Dean Ambrose wasn't one for socialization. He fancied himself a lone wolf, one man taking on the rest of the world. That was why when he got on the plane, he swapped tickets with Ryback. It hadn't been easy to convince the big brute to give up his seat, but it had been worth it to sit in the back of the plane, by the window and far away from everyone else.

Dean shifted irritably in his seat and drummed his fingers on the armrest. The damn plane had been sitting on the runway for hours, grounded due to the rough winter weather outside. If it were up to him, he would storm up to the cockpit and throttle the pilot until they took off. They could take their chances. If the wings became covered in ice, so be it. He had no problem with dying.

Unfortunately, no one else on the flight shared his mindset. So they sat here, waiting for Mother Nature to take her fury elsewhere.

Dean glanced around at the rest of the passengers on the plane. He could see his friend and fellow Shield member, Seth Rollins, sitting near the front of the plane. Seth was a good guy, and Dean was closer to him than he was to Roman, but the young highflyer was too loyal. Hell, Dean suspected that if he told Seth to take a flying leap off of a bridge because it was for the good of the team, the two-toned Superstar would do it in a heartbeat.

It wasn't that Dean himself wasn't loyal, because he was. He was just loyal when it was convenient to be. He had screwed over plenty of people in his lifetime, and hadn't felt anything close to guilt for any of them. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to turn on Roman and Seth quite as easily, simply because they had won a small shred of his trust, but if the need arose he wouldn't hesitate.

Two hours later, the plane finally took off. Dean settled back into his seat, thinking about the stupid wedding that he hadn't been invited to. Trinity (otherwise known as WWE Diva Naomi) and Jon Uso were great people and an even greater couple, but weddings weren't really his scene. He was happy for the two of them, but going to that wedding would remind him of something that he would never have, and that was love.

That thought made him uncomfortable, so he leaned his head against the round plane window and closed his eyes. The weeks of getting very little sleep caught up to him, and he slipped into the depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

A hard jolt jerked Dean out of the deep sleep that he had been in, and he sat up so fast that he banged his head against the panel above. Cursing, he rubbed at the top of his head before looking around. For an uneasy moment he thought that the plane was going down, but then he looked out the window and saw bright sunlight and palm trees, and he realized that he was in Hawaii. Stifling a yawn, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, retrieving his luggage from the compartment overhead. He slung his duffel over his shoulder and headed to the front of the plane. The heat hit him like a slap in the face as soon as he climbed out, and he paused to put his sunglasses on. This was definitely different than Cincinnati, where he had grown up.

Seth was standing a few feet away, obviously waiting for him. He had pulled his blond-and-black hair up into a messy bun and also wore a pair of sunglasses. Dean made his way over to him, taking his sweet time. He didn't really feel like conversing at the moment.

"Have a nice nap?" Seth asked without even looking up from his phone. His fingers wereflying over the screen and he had a focused look on his face. Dean knew that behind the lenses of the sunglasses his eyes would be narrowed in concentration.

"You stalking me now?" Dean drawled, adjusting the strap of his duffel.

"I have better things to do than stalk you, Ambrose," Seth retorted. He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans before picking up his suitcase. "So what time is this wedding, anyway?"

Dean shrugged lazily. "Don't know. Roman didn't bother to tell me." The Samoan man had assumed that Dean and Seth wouldn't want to go to his family's wedding, and in a way he had been right. Dean hadn't wanted to go at all, but Seth had been furious that Roman hadn't asked them to come and insisted on showing up just to spite him. And so Dean had gone with him, not entirely confident that Seth would be able to find his way to Hawaii by himself.

"How very like Roman not to tell us anything," Seth muttered bitterly.

"In his defense, he wasn't expecting us to come," Dean pointed out. He started walking toward the airport, rolling his suitcase along. The sound of tiny wheels behind him let him know that Seth was on his heels, as usual.

"Yeah, I know. That dick," Seth grumbled.

"Come on Sethie, would you really want Roman and I at your family's wedding?" Dean asked as the two of them passed through the sliding doors into the airport's air-conditioned lobby.

"Roman, yes. You, probably not. And don't call me that."

"Why Roman and not me?"

"Because you would start complaining about how weddings are lame, and then you'd probably abuse the bar and get totally wasted. After that, you'd hop up on a table and start letting the bride and groom know exactly what you think of their blissful union. I wouldn't be surprised if you started spouting off divorce statistics."

Dean feigned a look of hurt. "You talk like that's happened before."

"It has. At Natalya and Tyson's wedding. But you probably don't remember, because like I said, you were wasted." Seth hailed them a taxi once they were outside, and the two of them started loading their bags into the trunk.

"Huh. So that's why I woke up with a black eye," Dean mused, arranging his suitcase so there was room for Seth's next to it.

"Yep. Tyson got you pretty good. He would have done worse if I hadn't hauled you off of the floor and dragged you out," Seth responded, tossing his suitcase in as well and slamming the trunk shut.

"This is why I keep you around," Dean said with a grin, opening the door to the taxi.

"Shut up and get in the car."

* * *

The wedding was beautiful, Dean had to admit. He and Seth had driven around for close to an hour, searching for the correct venue, but it had been definitely worth it. Jon and Trinity had both looked great, and they were very much in love. The ceremony went perfectly, and Dean didn't get drunk and hop up on a table, much to Seth's endless relief.

While everyone was crowding around the bride and groom to offer their congratulations, Dean slipped away from Seth's side and wandered down to the edge of the ocean. He looked at the water for a moment before slipping off his shoes. He had rejected the idea of a suit and instead had opted for a white button-up shirt and a pair of black pants. He let the waves wash over his feet and allowed himself a brief moment of relaxation. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea to come after all.

"Well if it isn't the infamous Dean Ambrose."

Dean tilted his head back and blew out a puff of air. He didn't even need to turn around to know who stood behind him; the Australian accent gave it away. "Hello Emma."

The bubbly blonde Diva appeared by his side, her long locks gathered up into a ponytail. A warm breeze ruffled her knee-length blue sundress and stirred a few strands of hair that framed her face. "I didn't expect to see you here," she commented. She looked down at the water and kicked off her flip flops, then stuck her feet into it as well.

"I wasn't supposed to be," Dean admitted.

"Oh, so you're a wedding crasher now too?" Emma teased lightly.

"Of course. Every important event needs a Dean," he replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. He was surprised to find himself joking with her; he prided himself on being serious, when he wasn't teetering on the edge of insanity.

"Every important event needs an Emma," she chimed in. "And the Emmalution." She raised her hands and stuck out her hip.

"If you're going to do that stupid dance, I'm leaving," Dean warned.

"Oh come on, the dance is fun! Do it with me!" She jabbed his side with a finger, her blue eyes glittering with mischief.

"Dancing? No thanks, sweetheart," Dean scoffed. "I don't dance."

Emma made a face and then stuck out her tongue. "Don't be so sour. No wonder Roman didn't want you here."

That stung, but Dean didn't let it show. "Now I see why you're not on the main roster. You're more concerned with acting like a little girl than honing your craft."

Much to his surprise, Emma didn't even flinch. "Jeez, people told me you were prickly, but not this prickly."

"You haven't seen anything yet," he told her flatly.

Emma cocked her head to one side and studied him with those big blue eyes, a smile flitting across her lips briefly. "I will," she said confidently. "I'm not going anywhere."

That was the first time Dean had ever heard those words from someone. Everyone in his life had disappeared, one way or another. Seth and Roman were still here for now, but that could and probably would change faster than he could blink. People had told him a lot of things over the years, but never had someone said to him "I'm not going anywhere".

"We'll see," he said to the Australian Diva, hiding how deeply moved he was.

"Yes we will," she agreed.

A call of "Emma" came from further up the beach, where everyone else was gathered. Emma glanced over there, and then she looked back at Dean. "Looks like I'm wanted elsewhere." She bent and picked her flip flops up, adding, "I look forward to getting to know you better, Dean. Have a nice night."

With that, she sprinted off down the beach, her ponytail streaming out behind her. Dean watched her go, a little amused despite himself.

He had actually found someone just as unaffected by his insanity as he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Victory was everything. No one ever talked about the losers, they always talked about the winners, with their voices full of admiration and wonder. Winners got what they wanted, they were immortalized forever in the memories of those that had seen them succeed. Losing was not an option.

Dean Ambrose had been at the arena since it had opened its doors at noon, wandering around with his music plugged in and his determination higher than it had ever been. At one point he had jogged around the entire arena ten times, trying to quiet all of the chaotic thoughts in his head, a thousand different voices all speaking to him at once. Now he was leaning up against a chipped and peeling wall, wrapping black tape around his hands.

The Wyatt Family had crossed the line when they had interfered in the Shield's match with John Cena, Sheamus, and Daniel Bryan. The Wyatts' blindness and arrogance had cost Dean and his teammates their chance to get into the Elimination Chamber for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. Tonight, they were going to pay for their grave mistake.

As Dean tore the tape off of the roll with his teeth and flattened the loose piece that dangled off of his hand, he reflected how Roman had taken down Mark Henry without any effort. He had made it look so simple that Dean had actually resented him a little for it. After all, he had tried to take the World's Strongest Man down, but he had failed.

The thought of his failure made Dean clench his teeth painfully and dig his short nails into his palms so hard that it would have drawn blood had he not had the tape on. He hated failing almost more than he hated people who were better than him.

The worst part of the whole Mark Henry fiasco was the look that Roman had given him after he had kicked the shit out of Henry while he was laying like a fat lug on the canvas. It had been a look full of judgement and pity. _Pity._ As if Dean needed the pity of a guy whose entire moveset consisted of jumping into the air like some sort of parody of Superman and punching someone in the face!

Dean got himself so wound up thinking about how Roman was a fucking idiot that he spun on his heel and drove his fist into the the wall, splitting his knuckles open and causing crimson blood to drip down his hand and spatter on the floor. He bowed his head, his shoulders heaving with the force of his breath, staring at the small puddle by his feet.

He wasn't a weakling. He would show them. He would show all of them.

"Hey! You're bleeding!"

Dean jerked as if someone had hit him, surprised to hear the sound of someone else's voice. He turned to see Emma standing there, already dressed in her ring gear. She had a white cotton hoodie on over her top, and a water bottle that looked to have been just pulled from a cooler in her hand. Her silky blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled with concern.

Dean looked down at his bleeding hand. "What, this? Sweetheart, this is nothing. I've had way worse."

Emma scoffed. "Well, aren't you soooo tough," she drawled in her thick Australian accent. She unscrewed the cap to her water bottle and took a long swig. "It doesn't matter to me how many death matches you've been in. All of that gets erased by the time you get here. I traveled the indy circuit myself for quite awhile, and you don't see people giving me special treatment because of it."

He glowered at her, suddenly wishing she would take her dumbass gimmick as far away from him as possible. "I never said I got special treatment. I've _never _had anything handed to me in my entire life. I've worked my ass off for everything I have."

"And I haven't?" Emma demanded. "Darling, have you ever thought that you have it pretty damn good right now? You got called up to the main roster and they handed you a badass gimmick and two guys who you fit perfectly with. I got called up, and they dumped off a gimmick on me that makes me look like a fool. So tell me, why should I hold a pity party for you?"

There was that word again. Pity. Dean gritted his teeth and was about to snap back at her, but then the truth of what she said struck him. It really did suck that the gimmick she had been given was one of a bubble-headed, dancing bimbo, when the real Emma was far from that. Sure, she loved to have fun just as much as the next girl, but in reality she was actually a very level-headed, down to earth person. Not only that, but they didn't let her show them what she could do in the ring.

Now, Dean Ambrose wasn't one to apologize, but in this case he felt that he had to. It wasn't often that he actually felt shitty for something that he said, but this was one of those times. "Emma," he said, looking up from the mess that was his knuckles. "I'm-"

"Forget it," the blonde Australian interrupted. "I don't expect you to show any remorse. Hell, you couldn't even respond to the fact that I was trying to show concern for you. Just keep your distance from me from now on."

Dean felt a surge of anger. She couldn't even let him get an apology out! "Fine," he spat. "That shouldn't be a problem at all."

"Well, good!" Emma blurted out. She gave him a vaguely irritated look before spinning on her heel and storming off down the hallway.

As soon as she rounded the corner, Dean cursed and flipped a nearby table, causing carefully folded merchandise to scatter on the cement floor.

Fuck everyone.

* * *

**Elimination Chamber 2014: The Shield vs. The Wyatt Family**

The match started out just as Dean had expected: the six of them colliding with all of the fury and righteousness that two incredibly different groups who absolutely despised each other could create.

Seth was annihilating the Wyatts, flipping and soaring through the air like an acrobat. He consistently took out both Rowan and Harper, and never let either of the big men gain their feet for too long. Seth was the architect of the Shield, and he knew just where and when to strike in order to keep his opponents off balance and reeling.

Unfortunately, the tide of battle began to turn quickly, and not in their favor. As Dean was brawling with Bray Wyatt, the psychotic leader of the Wyatt Family, he saw Roman get knocked on his ass out of the corner of his eye. Cursing, he swung around, intending to help his brother in arms, only to get seized by his belt and yanked over the barricade and into the crowd. He hit the cement floor hard, only to pop right back up and trade blows with Bray, who was slowly pushing him further and further into the crowd. Dean attempted to push him away, wanting to get back and help Roman and Seth, only to have Bray give him a hard shove in the chest. He stumbled backwards and fell, tumbling out into one of the empty hallways within the arena.

"Fuck," Dean spat, starting to push himself to his feet. The inbreeding bastard had purposely separated him from his brothers. He had to get back out there.

Before he could get back on his feet, however, he heard the patter of light footsteps behind him, and then something really hard hit him in the back of the head. Lights burst in front of his eyes, and he slumped back to the floor, his vision starting to get dark around the edges.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a petite figure with long, shiny dark hair skipping happily away from him, swinging a metal pipe in one hand.

_That conniving little bitch…_

* * *

When Dean found Seth and Roman a few hours later, they were not pleased with him. As it turned out, they had lost after the Wyatts cornered Roman in the ring by himself. According to Seth, the Samoan had fought valiantly before the numbers had overwhelmed him, and he fell victim to Bray's finishing move, Sister Abigail.

"Look you guys, I told you, I brawled into the crowd and somebody knocked me out in the back of the head with something metal," Dean repeated for the thousandth time. No matter how many times he told them, Seth and Roman just weren't buying it.

"That's bullshit and you know it, man! I'm not buying that story one bit!" Seth yelled, clearly upset. "You got knocked out by way worse in Dragon Gate and the indies, so why are you all of a sudden complaining about it?"

Dean held his head as he glared at the highflyer, trying to shake off the throbbing pain in his skull. "How about you take the shot that I did! Huh Seth? You wanna know what it feels like?" Dean immediately turned his focus from Seth to Roman, anger pounding through his veins at the annoyed look on the Samoan Superstar's face. "Anything you wanna say to my face, big man?"

Roman just glowered at him, a betrayed look on his face.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'm out of here," Dean snarled. He seized his bag and stormed toward the nearest exit, the pain in his head intensifying because of the fury that he felt. He wasn't about to stand around and be judged by the two people who were supposed to trust him.

As he was throwing his bag into the back of his car, Dean thought back to the petite figure he had seen skipping away from him before he had slipped into unconsciousness, grinding his teeth together. Despite knowing who had done the dirty deed, there was no way in hell that he was going to admit it to Seth and Roman.

How could he possibly tell the other two Shield members that he had been knocked out cold by fucking AJ Lee of all people?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

By the time WrestleMania rolled around, the three members of the Shield had finally managed to get on the same page. After Seth Rollins had walked out on Dean and Roman during a six-man tag match, he had called a meeting on that Friday's SmackDown, dubbing it "The Shield Summit". Dean had wanted to beat the blonde out of Seth's dumbass hair, but Roman had made him act civil. So he just nailed him with a right hook to the jaw instead. After releasing their anger, the three men agreed to put their differences aside and be a team again.

Their new kinship was put to the test when they faced Kane and the New Age Outlaws at WrestleMania. For a little while it seemed that the other team would gain the upper hand, but then the Shield rallied back, and they barely managed to scrape by with a win. They had managed to come together and overcome their problems, and they felt pretty damn good.

Those feelings went away after everyone backstage and millions of people around the world witnessed Brock Lesnar beat the Undertaker's undefeated streak. Everyone was in a state of disbelief. No one could comprehend what had just happened.

As for Dean, he was pissed as hell. For someone like Brock, someone who left the company nine months out of the fucking year, to return and end something as legendary as the Streak was just disgusting. Even worse was the fact that Brock had left 'Taker laying flat on his back in the ring, not even bothering to help the Phenom up. That behavior was more than disrespectful, it was downright despicable.

"There's the real injustice!" he shouted, giving in to his rage like he so often did. A nearby chair felt his wrath, as he kicked it so hard that part of the back broke off.

All eyes turned from the monitors to him, and he gave everyone a look that was pure venom.

The part of the chair that had broken off had nearly struck Kofi, and he grumbled as he nudged the piece of chair with his foot. "Watch it, man. That almost hit me."

"Does it look like I give a fuck?" Dean spat, flipping him off.

Kofi glowered at him before stomping off.

"You could try treating people a bit nicer, you know."

Dean whirled around, raising his eyebrows. "Well, well, well. I thought you weren't speaking to me anymore?"

Emma gave a small shrug. "I find it difficult not to comment on your atrocious behavior."

"Well if you find it so atrocious, then why the fuck do you keep coming around?"

Emma looked away from him, fixing her eyes on the monitor. "What did he do to piss you off?" she asked quietly.

Dean didn't miss her attempt to change the topic. "He opened his mouth," he said simply.

Emma glowered at him. "Are you always rude to people who don't do anything to deserve it?"

"I don't know hon, does the sun rise in the east?" he quipped, tearing the black tape off of his hands.

"You're right," the Australian Diva scowled, taking a few steps back so that there was more distance between them. "I don't know why the fuck I keep coming around."

"Beats me," Dean shrugged. He was beyond caring about what Emma thought of him. He was used to people not wanting to be around him; it wasn't anything different.

Emma gave him a disgusted look, one that seemed to say that he was the scum of the earth. Despite the blank expression that he wore, deep down he was bothered by how much he had made her despise him. It truly hadn't been his intention, it was just something that he was so used to doing.

For the second time, he watched Emma walk away from him.

* * *

The day of Extreme Rules came much quicker than Dean had expected, and before he knew it he was standing backstage, wrapping his hands in black tape. Evolution had reformed and had set their sights on taking the Hounds of Justice down. Even the thought of that made Dean want to laugh. Randy Orton, Batista, and Triple H were all just a bunch of old men. There was no way they could keep up.

Dean examined the tape job, smirking to himself. Those fools didn't know who they were fucking with. He, Seth, and Roman were the new dogs in the pound, and they were hungry. It would be easy enough to take Orton, Batista, and Trips down. After all, you can't teach old dogs new tricks.

The sound of soft footsteps caused him to look up, and he watched Emma walk out of the womens' locker room, her duffle slung over her shoulder. She was in a hoodie and jean shorts, and it was clear that she didn't have her gear on underneath. When he thought about it, he couldn't recall seeing her name on the card for the pay-per-view.

She looked up and met his gaze, and she looked so downcast that he felt an odd stirring in his chest. Suddenly he thought back to the conversation they'd had the night of the Raw before Elimination Chamber. "_Darling, have you ever thought that you have it pretty damn good right now? You got called up to the main roster and they handed you a badass gimmick and two guys who you fit perfectly with. I got called up, and they dumped off a gimmick on me that makes me look like a fool. So tell me, why should I hold a pity party for you?"_

Emma looked away from him and adjusted the strap on her shoulder before continuing to walk down the hall toward the exit. Even though she held her head high, he could see her hands trembling where they clutched her water bottle.

* * *

The match was rough, that was for damn sure. Dean took such a beating that he thought every bone in his body was broken. Even so, he kept fighting, kept pulling himself back to his feet so he could plunge into the fray. Still, he got his licks in. Beating up on Randy Orton was certainly satisfying, as was delivering a DDT to the bossman himself, Triple H.

When Randy and Triple H were beating up on him outside the ring, he was thinking to himself that it at least couldn't get any worse. At least, that was before Seth came flying out of the stands and landed on top of all three of them. He must have blacked out after that, because when he came to he was draped over Roman's shoulders, and the Samoan Thor was tugging Seth to his feet.

Roman set him down when he saw that he was awake, and the three of them stood together and stuck their fists out, brothers once more.

Nothing could ever change that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Roman, where the hell is Seth at?! I've been trying to reach him for hours now! Not even a single call or text back!" Dean raged, pacing back and forth in the Shield's shared locker room. It was the night of the Payback pay-per-view and what could possibly be one of the biggest matches of their careers. It was going to be Shield/Evolution part two, only this time the game would be played quite differently. It was a six-man no holds barred elimination tag team match, but even though the stakes were certainly higher, Dean was confident that the Hounds would clean house just like they did at Extreme Rules. They were brothers bound by something more sacred than blood; they could overcome anything.

Even so, it made him anxious and angry that one brother had decided not to show up for their pre-match discussion. Now was not the time for Seth to be slacking off.

"Relax Dean, Seth's always down for the Hounds. He'll show up," Roman said calmly from where he was taping his wrists with black tape. He seemed totally unfazed by the fact that Seth seemed to have blown them off.

Dean grumbled under his breath and checked his phone again. It was unlike Seth to be late to a meeting. Hell, he was usually the first one there.

The next time Dean looked up, he was surprised to see Seth standing in the doorway of the locker room, already in his gear. "Well, speak of the devil, Roman. Look who just showed up," he said, strolling over to Seth. "Where ya been, huh Sethy? Lookin' for Sethy Snacks? You were supposed to meet us here two hours ago so we could plan our strategy."

Seth looked at him, and Dean halted for a moment, a little prickle of unease running striking him. Seth appeared different somehow. Maybe it was the way his hair cast a shadow under his eyes, or the way that his mouth twisted into a scowl that was completely out of character for him. The look that he gave Dean was almost aggravated, and for a second he was caught off guard. Seth had never looked at him like that before. He usually took Dean's little jabs in stride.

_Seth…?_

"It's not like you listen to strategy anyway, Dean. Come on guys, we've got work to do," Roman said, breaking the tense moment. The huge Samoan shrugged on his vest as Seth headed out into the hallway, and Dean slowly followed him, still feeling a bit odd, as if he were standing on an uneven surface.

For awhile the match seemed to swing the Shield's way. The three Hounds were hitting all of their moves and sending Evolution scattering, but then the veteran team got the upperhand by tossing Dean and Seth out of the ring and surrounding Roman.

Dean lay dazed on the floor outside of the ring, rubbing his head and trying to regain his senses. When he finally managed to sit up, he noticed that the Chicago crowd had gone deathly silent, and there was a rhythmic smacking sound, as if something hard was hitting bare flesh over and over again. Confused, he pulled himself up so he could see into the ring, and he felt his stomach lurch.

Roman was sprawled on his stomach on the steel ring steps, his vest laying forgotten in a corner. Triple H stood over him, viciously bringing a kendo stick down on his exposed back repeatedly. Roman's jaw was clenched, and Dean could tell that he was trying not to show weakness, but when Triple H handed off the kendo stick to Randy so that the Viper could take a turn, Roman finally let out a yell of pain.

Dean started to pull himself into the ring, intending to rescue his brother, but then he stopped. If he went in there, the three members of Evolution would shut him down immediately. He needed help. He didn't see Seth anywhere, so he supposed that inhuman help would have to suffice.

When Triple H tossed Roman out of the ring and started to drag him up the ramp, Dean was ready. He came out of nowhere, swinging the steel chair that he held harder than he had ever swung anything before. The chair connected with Triple H's head and The Game went down, but as Dean turned to deliver some more steel justice, Batista shouldered him right through the barricade.

Dean lay there, his head spinning, listening to the roar of the crowd. He weakly lifted his head, and he was just in time to see Seth dive down on top of Evolution, scattering them. Seth grabbed Roman's hand and pulled him to his feet, and Dean managed to push himself up as well, feeling a new burst of energy as he went to help Seth with Roman. The three Hounds managed to make it back into the ring, with Evolution right on their heels.

Batista slid in first, and Dean ran forward, hungry for vengeance. He planted his dropkick right in the Animal's face and then immediately moved out of the way so that Seth could hit his finishing move, the Blackout. Batista's face ate canvas, and Seth ducked out of the way as Roman charged across the ring for the spear, seeming to tear Batista right in half.

"Batista has been eliminated."

Randy Orton slid in next, but he was met with a vicious Superman Punch from Roman. Dean grabbed Randy by the neck, and just as Seth slid a chair across the ring, delivered his headlock driver finisher into the chair. He threw himself over Randy and listened as the referee's hand slapped the mat three times.

"Randy Orton has been eliminated."

Triple H was the only one left, and Dean stalked toward him, his two brothers by his side. They surrounded The Game, intending to make him pay, and pay terribly. Randy, on the outside of the ring, slid Triple H his beloved sledgehammer, and before Dean could react he drove it into his face.

Dean hit the canvas hard, his hands covering his face. Pain was exploding in his jaw, but he forced himself to ignore it. There was a match to be won. When he looked up, Triple H was getting ready to deliver a Pedigree to Roman. Before Dean could get up to stop it, Seth came flying out of nowhere and delivered a knee to Triple H's face, and immediately after that Roman speared the living shit of him.

"Triple H has been eliminated."

Victory.

* * *

Monday came quickly, and with it came another episode of Raw. The Shield stood huddled in a hallway, preparing themselves for their segment. Dean paced back and forth, more on edge than usual. He had lost his phone at the gym earlier, and the fact that he was cut off was making him anxious. There was a feeling of dread planted deep in his chest, as if he was missing out on something extremely important because his phone was gone. "I need my damn phone," he spat, raking his hands through his messy hair.

"Dude, would you forget about your pathetic stinkin' phone!" Seth snapped, seeming more prickly than usual.

Dean whirled on him, a burst of anger spilling forth. "You got a problem with my problems, Seth?!"

Seth glared back at him, almost daring him to do something.

"Guys, take it easy. Remember, we just beat Evolution AGAIN. We gotta go out there and show the crowd that we're still the best team and unit in the entire WWE, alright?" Roman interfered, thrusting his fist forward. "You guys know the creed."

Dean put his fist forward, and after a moment Seth did too.

"Believe in the Shield."

The familiar music hit, and the three of them made their way through the crowd, feeling various hands patting them on their shoulders and backs. They vaulted over the barricades and entered the ring, and for some reason Dean got a bit nostalgic. He shook off the feeling, wondering what in the hell was wrong with him. It wasn't like this was the last time the three of them would ever be doing this.

He snatched up a mic as soon as they were in the ring and began speaking, eager to pour out his feelings into his promo. "Last night at Payback, we did the unthinkable. We conquered the legendary Evolution and put those old wenches out of their misery. Not only that, but it was a clean sweep!" he crowed, passing the mic to Seth so that the highflyer could get his five cents in.

"That's right baby, we did it! We conquered Evolution, because we are one of the most dominant factions in the history of the WWE. Do not underestimate the Shield, ladies and gentlemen. Believe in the Shield!" Seth shouted, sounding much more enthusiastic than usual.

Roman took the mic, his deep voice echoing through the arena. "That's right, and you know how we did it, boys? With teamwork. Evolution was never together from the get go. That's why Batista quit. We're not just a team; we're brothers, and brothers always have each others' backs no matter what."

Triple H's theme song started blaring from the speakers right after Roman finished speaking, and the three Hounds spun to face the stage, immediately preparing for battle. Triple H and Randy strolled out onto the stage, cocky smirks on their faces. Triple H was carrying his sledgehammer, and Dean saw Seth roll out of the ring and grab a steel chair before returning to stand with them, presumably to match the sledgehammer threat.

"You know, last night everyone kept saying that Evolution was finally over, and that Evolution had finally perished. People kept running up to tell me that it's over. It's like I always said though; at the end of the day, I always win. And if Plan A doesn't work out, then there's always a Plan B." The COO seemed to hang on those last few words, a venomous smile curving his lips.

Dean stepped forward, ready to face whatever The Game was going to throw at him, but he never expected what happened next.

No, he never expected.

Roman pitched forward abruptly, and Dean turned his head, wondering if the guy had tripped over his own two feet or what. But as Roman sprawled on his face on the canvas, he realized that everything he had ever believed up until that moment had all been a lie. He should have known, he should have suspected. He had been abandoned by one family, of course he would be abandoned by another.

He stared at Seth, his mind whirling and scrambling and screaming. He just stared at the man he had called his brother, kept staring until the chair that Seth was holding connected with his gut. Even as he fell, he just kept staring at Seth's face, wondering when someone he had thought he knew suddenly became a complete and utter stranger.

He lost track of how many times Seth hit him with that chair. It didn't matter. His entire body was numb, so numb that he barely felt the blows. He lay there as Randy hit Roman with the chair, feeling the reverberations through the canvas pressed against his cheek. He knew that terrible things were happening to Roman, but he couldn't bring himself to care. What was the point? This was where caring had brought him.

Raw ended with Triple H, Randy, and Seth standing over the limp bodies of Roman and Dean while the crowd booed the turncoat. The three of them left the ring, leaving Dean and Roman to pick up the broken pieces of themselves and make their way to the back.

They didn't speak. Even after they got back to the locker room and found their phones sitting there, with frantic text messages from Sasha Banks and a note from John Cena trying to warn them, they didn't say anything to each other. There was no need. They were both tired, and hurt, and shattered, but too goddamn proud to admit it. So Dean just grabbed his bag, tugged the hood of his hoodie up over his head, and left.

He made it to the parking lot before he knew that he had to stop. He walked around to the side of the building and dropped his bag, then sat down on the ground, his back pressing up against the cold brick wall. He stared at passing traffic, clenching his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into the delicate skin of his palms so hard that it drew blood. He clenched his teeth together painfully as his body shuddered, all of the pain trying to tear its way out of his chest.

When she sat down next to him, he didn't even bother to ask her how she had found him. He just sat there, clinging to the tiny shred of sanity that he had left.

"I'm not even going to ask how you're doing," Emma said softly. "I just want you to know that whenever you need to talk, I'll be here."

Dean looked down at his bloodied palms, an icy feeling creeping through his limbs. "You want to talk?" he said quietly without looking at her. "Let's talk. Let's talk about how my entire life has been one big pile of shit. Let's talk about how my own mother didn't want me, how she would rather shoot her veins full of poison than raise me. Let's talk about how I've always felt like I didn't belong on this big fucked up floating rock, until I met two people who I thought would have my back no matter what. Let's talk about how tonight, I learned that friendship is just another motherfucking LIE."

Emma didn't say anything. She just sat there and listened as he raged, knowing that no words could close the ravine that was opening inside of him.

"I feel like I'm drowning," he continued, his voice breaking for just a second. "I feel like I'm trying to breathe, but all I'm doing is drawing more water into my lungs. It's gushing down my throat and pushing the oxygen out of my body, and all that I'm able to do is flail around. I know that I can't be saved. I know that it's hopeless. But God help me, I keep trying. I don't fucking know why, but I do."

"It's human nature to not give up," Emma murmured.

Dean gave a harsh laugh and stood up, snatching up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "See, I would believe that, but I'm not fucking _human._"

Emma watched him walk off, thinking about how lonely he looked, a solitary figure constantly walking, pushing against the darkness but never able to gain any purchase. How do you fight an enemy you can't see?

"You are," she breathed, knowing that he couldn't hear her. "You may not see it, but I do."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dean had never felt this feeling before. This pure hatred that was coursing through his veins, filling his body with a fire that burned so hot he thought he might explode, burning all of the pain away. It wasn't that the pain of being betrayed wasn't still there, because it was. The anger was just taking a more prominent spot, along with the thirst for revenge.

After the brutal beatdown on Sunday and Monday, Vince had given Roman the rest of the week off so his battered back could heal. He had offered Dean the rest of the week too, but he had declined. Taking a few days off would mean having to return to his lonely home in Las Vegas, with no one but the roaches for company. No, he would rather be doing something productive, like scooping Seth Rollins' eyeballs out with a spoon.

Unfortunately, Seth was avoiding him rather well. He stuck close to Randy and Trips and never dared to venture out alone. Normally that wouldn't be a problem for Dean, but he was too damaged at the moment to be able to take three guys on at once. So it seemed that vengeance would have to wait until Roman returned and distracted the two old men.

Dean's footsteps tapped on the tile floor as he walked down one of the hallways in the arena that the WWE was in that night, heading to his locker room. He wasn't allowed to compete until next week, but he still liked being around the roster. His hands were shoved into the pockets of the leather jacket that he wore, and he was delving into a dark fantasy of what he was going to do to Seth when he heard voices coming from the open door of a locker room. He would have kept walking, but then he heard a familiar Australian accent, and so he curiously moved over to the door to listen.

"...something I really need to tell you, Emma," a voice tinged with a heavy Italian accent said, one that could only belong to Santino. Dean tensed immediately, his hands curling into fists.

"What is it, Santino?" Emma asked, sounding extremely innocent.

"I just wanted to let you know that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, and I have so much fun with you," Santino gushed. Dean closed his eyes tightly, an odd pounding beginning in his head. It felt like someone was driving a nail through his skull. A red light pulsed beneath his eyelids, and his breathing was becoming ragged.

"I have a lot of fun with you too, Santino," Emma replied. "You're one of my greatest friends."

"But I want more than that...Emma…"

Dean opened his eyes and peered inside the room just in time to see Santino lean in close to Emma, and there was no doubt what he was trying to do. There was a loud rushing in his ears, and then something inside of him snapped.

The next thing he knew, he had Santino pinned up against the wall by his throat, and Emma was yelling. Santino's hands scrabbled at his fingers, but he was unable to pry them open. Dean's eyes burned into him, such an intense shade of blue that it was unnerving. The amount of rage in their aqua depths was terrifying.

"Dean!" Emma shouted from behind him. "Let him go right now!"

Dean barely heard her; he tightened his fingers around Santino's throat, watching as his face turned from red to purple.

"Dean!" Emma started hitting him in the back over and over. "Let him _go_!"

Santino made a choking noise, and Dean released him, taking a step back. He slid to the floor, rubbing at the marks on his throat and sucking in air noisily. Dean glared at him before driving a booted foot into his ribs hard.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Emma yelled, planting her hands on his chest and shoving him back.

Dean just fixed his eyes on her face and didn't say anything, a whirlwind of different emotions spinning around inside of him. Suddenly he spun on his heel and pushed the locker room door open, causing it to slam against the wall. He stormed out into the hall and broke into a run, smashing into the double doors that led outside. He burst out into the warm evening air, the red haze that had obscured his vision finally lifting. He stopped and rubbed his temples, trying to get rid of the intense headache that he had.

"Will you stop and talk to me?!"

He spun around to face Emma, surprised that she had ran after him. She stared at him as if he were a stranger, a warm breeze stirring her long blonde hair. The confusion and hurt in her eyes hurt him much more than he thought it would.

"I thought we talked last night," he said hoarsely, looking away from her.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!"

Anger slammed into him suddenly, and he felt the need to lash out at her. "So you and Santino huh?" he said bitterly, jamming his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Funny, I didn't think moron was your type."

Realization dawned on her face, and her jaw dropped. "You...you heard…"

"Yes, I heard," he hissed. "If you're going to have intimate conversations like that, you should really shut the fucking door."

"Intimate…" Emma laughed suddenly, and he felt the sting of her laughter. He didn't see what was so goddamn funny about what had just happened. "Dean, we were rehearsing," she told him. "You know, for our segment later tonight? We're supposed to go on a dinner date, and Santino tries to confess his feelings for me, but I act totally oblivious."

Well, fuck.

"He looked like he was taking it way too seriously," he grumbled, unwilling to admit that he had fucked up.

Emma cocked her head to one side, her blue eyes glittering with an emotion he couldn't identify. "My, my...I think crazy Dean Ambrose is jealous."

"Jealous?" Dean scoffed, shaking his head vigorously. "I don't get jealous. Just...tell Santino to keep his grubby fingers to himself, or I'll break them all in half."

If Emma was startled by the brutality of that statement, she didn't show it. Instead she kept gazing at him with that look in her eyes.

He was about to ask her what the hell her problem was when she took a step closer, took his face into her hands, and kissed him.

Dean froze. He didn't know what to do. He had never been in this situation before. Sure, he had kissed girls, plenty of them, but none of them had meant half of what Emma did to him. _No, stop right there, _a little voice in the back of his mind commanded. _Don't go down this road again. Don't get too close. You know what always happens._

Even so, he found his arms sliding around her waist, keeping her pressed up against him. Emma kept kissing him, and he slowly began to kiss her back, trying to lower the walls that seemed to be permanently stuck in place. He allowed himself to relax a little, leaning into her warmth and letting it surge through him, making him feel alive again. The pain that had been present in his chest since Seth's betrayal eased a little bit as he held her.

All too soon, Emma broke the kiss. He looked down at her, shocked and yet content. She reached up and brushed his messy hair back out of his eyes, then slid her hand down to rest lightly on his cheek. Her touch soothed him, calmed the storm that raged inside of him.

"Idiot," she whispered, her tone affectionate. She dropped her hand from his face and stepped back out of his arms, gave him one last lingering look, and then turned and went back inside the arena.

Dean stood there for a moment, staring at the closed doors, and then he pulled the hood of his hoodie up over his head and walked back to his car.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When Dean found out that the Authority was trying to cut him out of the Money in the Bank match, the first thing he did was march out to the ring and demand to be put in the match. If they wouldn't add him, then he would hold the whole damn arena hostage. He deserved to be in it just as much as their little pet, Seth Rollins. That was another reason why he wanted to be in the match; if he could be in the same ring as Seth Rollins, along with a bunch of ladders, then that was a good night.

Much to his delight, Seth persuaded Papa H to add him to the match. He smirked to himself as he headed back to his locker room, clad in his new attire of jeans, combat boots, and a white or black muscle shirt, depending on his mood. Little Sethie had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

He was halfway to his locker room when he heard Curtis Axel say to Ryback, "Hey man, did you hear what happened to Emma?" He immediately froze and turned his head to look at the two of them, beginning to get a little nervous. If anything had happened to Emma…

"You mean the hot Australian?" Ryback asked, chugging a water bottle. "What about her?"

"She got arrested for shoplifting an iPhone case from Wal-Mart earlier today," Axel laughed. "A fucking iPhone case, can you believe it?"

"Well you know what they say, blondes aren't too bright," Ryback quipped.

Dean charged across the hallway and grabbed Axel by his shirt collar, slamming his back up against the wall. "Where is she? Where did they take her?" he snarled into Axel's face. He didn't care that he was making a scene, the only thing that he cared about at that moment was obtaining information.

"Hey!" Ryback barked, and he went to grab Dean and pull him away. Dean spun and kicked him between the legs, causing him to double over. As soon as he did, the Lunatic Fringe nailed him with a hard punch to the jaw, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor.

When that was dealt with, he turned back to Axel, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "I'm not gonna ask you again, Wonder Bread. _Where is she?_"

"She's probably in the police station down the street from here, being held overnight," he told Dean hurriedly. "That's all I can think of."

Dean released his shirt and whipped around, heading for the parking lot and flipping off anyone who was staring at him. He knew he was going to be in trouble when he got back, but he honestly didn't give a single fuck.

* * *

When he entered the police station, the first thing he noticed was that Santino Marella was already there, talking to the cop at the front desk, a skinny Latino guy whose name tag read Martinez. Just seeing Santino caused Dean's blood pressure to skyrocket, and he stormed over to him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Santino gave him a look of complete and utter disgust. "I came to bail Emma out," he said in that stupid accent.

"Well you can go back to the arena now, because _I'm _bailing her out," Dean growled, pushing him roughly aside and focusing his attention on the cop. "I came here for Emma, the WWE Diva. I'm bailing her out."

Martinez took Dean's money and went into the back of the station to retrieve Emma. While he was gone, he and Santino eyed each other up.

"Why are you so concerned about Emma?" Santino huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"None of your goddamn business," Dean snapped, fighting the urge to choke him out again. He was fairly sure that if he went down that road again, he wouldn't stop until Santino was dead. Not that it would be that much of a tragedy.

"Just stay away from her," Santino warned, losing that goofy air he usually had. "Everything you touch falls apart. I won't let you destroy Emma."

Dean just glared at him, trying not to let the pain he felt at that statement show. It had struck somewhere vulnerable deep within him, and his hate for the Italian man intensified until it was nearly at Seth Rollins' level.

Martinez reappeared suddenly, leading Emma by the elbow. She didn't look hurt, much to Dean's relief. In fact, she looked just like she always did, if not a little sadder than usual. Her face lit up when she saw him standing there, and she broke into a run, heading straight for him. He held out his arms, waiting for her to run into them.

Only to stumble to the side as Santino shouldered him out of the way. He caught Emma instead, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "Oh Emma, I'm so glad to see that you're safe," he cooed, tightening his arms around her.

Dean straightened up, looking at Santino murderously. He was going to fucking pay for that.

"Uh, thank you, Santino," Emma mumbled, wriggling out of his grasp. As soon as she was free, she walked over to Dean, threw her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against his chest.

Normally Dean wasn't one to show affection in public, or at all, but this was an opportunity too sweet to pass up. He slid his arms around Emma and hugged her back, smirking at Santino over the top of her head. It was clear which one of them she had been running to.

Santino looked pissed, and he stomped out of the police station.

"Thank you for bailing me out," Emma said, pulling back to look up at him. "It was a really sweet thing for you to do."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all sappy on me," Dean mumbled, shoving his hands back in his pockets. "I couldn't exactly leave you here. But Wal-Mart? Really?"

Emma flushed and glanced at Martinez where he sat behind his desk. "Not here. In the car," she said, taking him by the hand and tugging him out the door.

As soon as they were in his rental, he twisted in the drivers' seat so that he was looking at her. "Alright, so tell me your explanation."

"I went and got a bunch of stuff from Wal-Mart, including the iPhone case," Emma explained, looking embarrassed. "I went to one of the self-checkouts because the regular checkouts were all full and I was in a hurry. I swiped everything, but for some reason it didn't register the iPhone case, so when I got to the doors and they checked my bag and receipt, they found the case and thought I was stealing it. So they called the police and they arrested me for shoplifting."

Dean studied her face, digesting this information. He couldn't imagine her stealing anything from anyone, but he had been deceived before. After all, he hadn't been able to imagine Seth turning on his brothers. But in this case his instincts were telling him that Emma was being honest. "I believe you," he said finally. "So what now?"

"I have to go to court on Tuesday," Emma said glumly. "It's gonna suck so-" Her phone rang, cutting her off, and she dug it out of her pocket. "Hello?" She listened for a moment, and then her blue eyes went wide and filled with tears. "But Vince...please...you don't understand…" She pulled the phone back from her ear suddenly and stared at the screen, then burst into sobs.

Dean was so startled that he just sat there for a moment, watching her cry. Then he snapped out of it and awkwardly pulled her into his arms, trying to comfort her. He had no idea how to deal with crying women, and the outburst of emotion was making him uncomfortable. "Emma, what happened? What's wrong?"

"Vince called," Emma hiccuped, clutching his shirt. "He...he fired me…"

"What?!" Dean was outraged. That was the biggest load of bullshit he had ever heard. Skanky Cameron had gotten a DUI and still had her job, and a DUI could kill someone! Emma had made a minor mistake and gotten fired for it. If that wasn't an injustice, then he didn't know what was.

"Don't worry," he said, feeling her tremble against him. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

"Vince, you and I need to have a little chat."

Vince McMahon looked up from his paperwork and frowned when he saw Dean leaning in the doorway of his office. "Not now, Ambrose. I'm busy. Come back later."

Dean shook his head and shut the door behind him, locking it. "No, we're talking now."

"What the hell are you doing?" Vince demanded, sounding angry. "Get out of my office right now, or there will be serious consequences."

Dean ignored that and strolled across the room until he stood right in front of Vince's desk. He placed his hands on the smooth mahogany surface and leaned down until he was eye level with the CEO. "Why did you fire Emma?"

Vince clearly hadn't been expecting that, because he looked surprised for a second. Then he composed himself, and folded his hands in front of him before saying, "She was arrested for shoplifting. She made the company look bad."

"I see," Dean said with a nod of his head. "So, when are Cameron and Jack Swagger being fired?"

"They're not," Vince said, clearly confused.

"But they got arrested and made the company look bad. Tell me you're not making this a double standard, Vince," Dean gasped, faking a shocked look. "Imagine how that would sound if it were to get out to TMZ. 'Vince McMahon Targets Foreign Woman'. How scandalous."

Vince's expression hardened. "Not funny, Ambrose. Get out of my goddamn office _now_."

Dean straightened up, acting as if he was leaving, but as soon as Vince looked away from him, he snatched up one of the papers that was sitting on his desk.

"Ambrose!" Vince barked, shooting to his feet. "Give me that right now!"

"Ooh, this looks important," Dean drawled, studying the sheet of paper. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to it…" He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, then clicked it until a flame sputtered to life. He held the corner of the paper just above the flame, watching the paper begin to blacken from the heat, a crazed smile on his face.

"You wouldn't dare," Vince growled.

"Really? Try me," Dean retorted, the smile growing bigger as he dipped the paper closer to the flame. The edge caught fire suddenly, the smell of burning paper filling the room.

"Fine!" Vince roared, snatching the paper from Dean and stomping it out. "Tell Emma that she's been reinstated!"

"You're a smart man, Vince," Dean called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "I hope you keep your wits about you, this place can be dangerous."

He slipped out into the hallway, leaving Vince fuming.

* * *

When Dean returned to Emma out in the parking lot, he found her sitting on the hood of his car, dwarfed in his leather jacket. He had given it to her before he had gone inside because the air had started to cool and she was only dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top.

She lifted her head and gave him a weak smile when she saw him approaching. "So?" she asked when he got closer.

"You've been reinstated," Dean informed her, sticking out his hand.

Emma's eyes lit up. "No way!" she exclaimed, taking his hand and allowing him to help her off of the hood. "Vince had a change of heart?"

"You could say that," he replied, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk.

Emma threw her arms around him and kissed him in thanks, stretching up on her tip toes to reach him.

Dean kissed her back, looping one arm around her slender waist.

He could get used to this.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Failure. Disgrace. Loser. Dean could hear all of these degrading terms whispered behind his back as he limped backstage, blood dripping from the deep cut on his chin, creating a crimson trail on the concrete floor. Normally he would have spun on his heel, flung his fury at them in the form of verbal daggers, but he was just too damn tired. The worst part about all of the whispers and fleeting looks was that they were right.

He had gone into the Money in the Bank ladder match determined to keep that briefcase out of Seth Rollins' filthy, traitorous hands at any cost. The thought of winning the briefcase had crossed his mind occasionally, but that was never the priority. Even so, the sight of the golden case dangling above the ring had been tantalizing, and for a moment he had lost sight of his objective. He had scrambled up the ladder and stretched out a hand, images of glory flashing before his eyes.

But as it turned out, luck wasn't on his side, just like it never had been. A large hand had clamped around his leg and yanked him down, and before he could react he was seized by the throat and slammed to the canvas. His head swam, and he faintly registered Kane's huge form holding the ladder in place for Seth, who had unhooked the briefcase and was holding it above his head.

Game over.

He knew that the medics would probably want to stitch up his wound, but he didn't feel like being fussed over. It didn't matter if it scarred, he had plenty of them. He was ugly enough already, he was pretty sure one more scar wasn't going to affect anything.

He was halfway to the locker room when a soft hand slipped into his calloused one, startling him a little. He didn't need to turn his head to see who it was, he just pulled his hand away, not one for public displays of affection and definitely not in the mood.

"Stop." Emma grabbed his hand again, stopping abruptly and causing him to have to stop walking as well so he wouldn't yank her over. Her eyes burned into his, and he could see the concern that shimmered in their aqua depths. She pulled him close to her and reached up, her fingers lightly brushing the cut on his chin. She looked at the crimson smear on her fingers. "You're hurt."

"We went through this once before," Dean mumbled, frowning a little. "I've had worse."

"Doesn't mean you need to let it bleed all over. It's unsanitary." Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust, making him scoff. She smiled at the unimpressed look on his face and stretched up on her tiptoes to press her forehead against his, looking into his clouded blue eyes.

"Well, well, well. Looks like losers stick together."

That voice sent a current of fresh rage surging through Dean's body, and he spun on his heel, his lip curling up into a snarl. "You must have a death wish."

Seth Rollins let out a low whistle. "Someone's a little testy. What's the matter, Ambrose? Upset you couldn't get the job done?" He held up the golden briefcase and waved it around mockingly, a harsh laugh escaping from his lips.

"You're one to talk. You needed Uncle Kane's help to snatch that. He's not here now, though. Let's see how you do on your own, without your demon and a steel chair." Dean stalked forward, his eyes crazed and his mouth twisted into a deranged grin.

Seth let out an amused chuckle. "Oh Ambrose, you never learn. I don't go anywhere alone."

A scream from behind him made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand up, and he whirled around, his heart stopping for a full second when he saw Randy Orton standing there, his tattooed arm wrapped around Emma's neck. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her fingers scrabbled at his arm as she gasped for air.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean spat, charging forward. "Let go of her!"

Randy's lips curled up into an evil smirk. "As you wish." He shoved Emma hard, sending her flying into the wall. The sickening crack of her skull connecting with the brick was a sound that Dean didn't think he would ever forget. Time seemed to stall as she crumpled to the floor, her golden hair fanned out around her.

A wordless scream of fury tore from his throat, and he lunged at Randy, wanting to hurt him in the worst way possible, wanting to make him feel the anguish that he was feeling at this moment. He wanted to rip the Viper into pieces.

He never got the chance. A solid weight slammed into the back of his head, sending him to the floor. He started to push himself to his hands and knees, determined to tear the life out of Randy, but Seth sprang down from the crate he had been standing on, his boot pushing Dean's head down and causing his forehead to smack into the concrete floor. Spots of light burst before Dean's eyes, followed in rapid succession by darkness.

The sound of voices pulled Dean sharply from the void he had been floating in, and blinding white light greeted him when he opened his eyes. There was a dull throbbing in his head, and he faintly wondered if he had passed out after the MITB match. Then the memory of Seth approaching him came rushing back, and he pushed himself upright.

The two medics who were in the room looked at him in surprise, and one said, "Ambrose, you need to rest. You could have a concussion."

"Where's Emma?" Dean demanded, swinging his legs off of the cot he had been lying on.

"Ambrose-"

Dean seized the medic by the collar of his shirt and thrust his face close to the other man's, his blue eyes blazing. "WHERE IS SHE?!" When the man didn't respond right away, Dean gave him a hard shake. "WHERE?!"

The man pointed to a curtain at the other end of the room, and Dean released him and raced over there. He reached out and grabbed the curtain, then yanked it aside.

Emma lay on the cot there, either asleep or unconscious. Dean looked down at her face, remembering the shock and pain in her eyes when Randy had thrown her into the wall. This had happened to her because she had been with him, and that was the harsh reality of it.

"She's going to be alright," one of the medics, a short, dark-haired man, said. "We had to stitch up a cut in the back of her head and she could possibly have a concussion, but she'll be fine."

Even though he was relieved that Emma was going to be okay, he felt an overwhelming need to get out of there. Doctors and medical supplies brought back bad memories, and the enormous guilt that he was feeling was weighing on him. He turned and ran out the door, ignoring the shouts of the medics.

As soon as he reached his locker room, he sat down on one of the benches and put his face in his hands, hatred for Seth and guilt for Emma pulsing through his body. Everything he loved was destroyed, simply because destruction followed him everywhere. Sure, Seth had made his own choice when he joined the Authority, but there wasn't a day that went by where Dean wondered if something he had said or done had pushed Seth over the edge, or if he could have prevented it if he had just appreciated the Architect more.

He refused to let that happen with Emma. He had been fooling himself for far too long. There was no happy ending in his future, only blood and war. It was time to accept that, and to cut his ties with Emma before she got hurt even worse.

From now on all of his attention was going to be focused where it should have been in the first place, and that was making Seth Rollins pay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Make that MITB briefcase self-destruct. Blow that shit up._

Dean smirked down at the bright screen of his phone before returning his attention to the long road that stretched out ahead of him. He had just gotten in the car to head to that night's Raw when his back pocket had started buzzing, and he had unlocked the screen to see a new text from Roman. It was clear that the Samoan Thor wasn't very happy about their little defector winning the coveted briefcase either.

Well, luckily for Roman, Dean had spent all of last night thinking up various ways to make Seth's life a living hell from this moment on. Some were funny, some were twisted, and some were the darkest, sickest parts of his mind come to life. He had even gotten out a notebook and written them all down just to make sure he didn't forget any of them.

Keeping one hand on the wheel and glancing up every few seconds to make sure he wasn't straying out of his lane, he quickly typed a message back to his brother. _With pleasure, my brotha. _He hit the send button and then tossed his phone into the empty passenger seat before plucking his shades from where they hung on the visor. He slid them on and then leaned back in his seat, wishing he had a cigarette. He had given up smoking when he got sent to NXT, but he still got the urge every once and awhile, just like he did with alcohol. He hadn't entirely given that habit up, but he sure as hell didn't do it as often as he used to.

He suddenly realized just how quiet it was in the car. Normally Seth would have ridden with him, lounging in the passenger seat and talking up a storm. Actually, scratch that, he would have been in the driver's seat and Dean would have been the one in the passenger seat. He hated driving and tended to avoid it at all costs. Seth still would have been chattering away, though. The little fucker never shut up.

An ache began deep in his chest, and his fingers tightened around the wheel. No. He would not go down that road, not right now. He needed to be focused, a lion stalking its prey, intent and sure of the kill. There was no room for any emotions other than rage anymore. Emotions were pointless and stupid; all they did was lead to more heartbreak.

Dean's hand shot out almost of its own accord, smacking the power button on the radio. It switched on and sappy country music filled the small space, making him grimace. Whoever had this rental before him had shitty taste in music. He fumbled with the buttons before finding a station that he liked, one that blared loud and violent symphonies that seemed to inspire anger and destruction. It echoed what he felt inside.

He leaned back, cracked the window, cranked the radio, and hit the gas, speeding straight for the arena and Seth Rollins.

The coward was nowhere to be found, of course. Dean had been stalking the hallways of the arena for the last two hours but had yet to find even the slightest trace of a particular two-toned Money in the Bank winner. He was probably holed up in a locker room with his little Authority family, hiding behind the bulk of Randy Orton and Kane. His new brothers.

A snarl ripped its way out of his throat, surprising even him. He leaned back against one of the bland brick walls and crossed his toned arms over his chest, clenching his fists and trying to keep from punching the solid concrete behind him. He had split his knuckles open the last time he did that, and the last thing he wanted right now was to go to the medics and get them stitched up. He was a man on a mission; anything that wasn't essential to the completion of said mission was trivial and didn't require his time.

"Dean?"

A few choice curse words bubbled up in his throat but he swallowed them, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds to try and steady himself before turning to face the bubbly blonde who always seemed to find him when he didn't want to be found. "Emma."

The look on her face told him volumes, and he had to shift his gaze to the floor. He already knew what this was going to be about, and he didn't want to have this conversation. Not here, not now, not ever. Why couldn't she just accept that he was a lost cause and leave him alone? He wasn't any good for her, she had to know that.

"You didn't answer any of my calls last night," she said, her eyebrows furrowing in a look of confusion. "I was worried about you. I thought…" She trailed off, but her unspoken words hung in the air between them.

Dean wanted to let loose a bitter laugh. Hell, he couldn't blame her for thinking that he had done something to himself. He hadn't exactly been in the best of moods lately. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of something that might ease the sting of what he was about to tell her. "I was busy," he said shortly, silently berating himself. Why did he have to be such an asshole?

Emma frowned and stuck her hands into the pockets of the oversized white hoodie that she wore. He noticed that she didn't have her ring gear on, and he felt a little pang of guilt. She was already having a hard enough time as it was, what with never getting to have a match anymore. Ever since the shoplifting incident, she had been kept off of TV. It was almost like they were ashamed of her. Sometimes he wondered if fighting to get her job back had all been in vain. What was the point of being employed by a company if you were never going to get a chance to work?

"You were busy all ten times I called?" she asked, her blue eyes boring twin holes into him. He could sense her disbelief and hurt, rolling off of her in thick waves that threatened to smother him. "If you're going to lie, then at least think up something better than that. It's insulting."

As much as it pained him to do so, he lifted one shoulder in a half-assed attempt at a shrug. "I didn't feel like talking to you," he said flatly. He almost added _or anyone_, but he bit his tongue. This should be easy, pushing people out of his life was something he was a pro at. So why was it so fucking hard?

Emma gave a slow nod, her eyes still fixed on him. "Oh. Well, sorry to be such a nuisance. I thought I was being a good...whatever I am...by checking up on you. Obviously I shouldn't have wasted my time."

She paused, and in that pause he saw that she was giving him time to say something. He knew that if he looked up into her eyes, he would see a faint glimmer of hope underneath the pain. What he said next could make or break this thing that was blooming between them.

Just as he opened his mouth, the building's fire alarm started blaring. "What the hell?" he said instead, his head whipping from side to side as he searched for any sign of a fire. Even though he couldn't see anything, he could definitely smell it.

Emma was still standing right next to him, looking just as surprised by the sound of the fire alarm as he was. "Come on," he said gruffly, forgetting about what he was going to say for just a moment as he grabbed her hand and headed for the nearest exit.

Once they were outside in the cool air, his head cleared and he knew that he needed to finish the conversation with Emma. But her hand fit perfectly into his and when he looked down at her she was shivering, the wind biting through the thin fabric of her hoodie. He bit back a sigh as he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He just couldn't do it right now.

Other people flooded out of the building, and Roman came wandering over, still dressed in his ring gear. He hooked his fingers into the collar of his vest and gave Dean an odd look. "Dean, don't tell me you started a fire to try and burn Seth alive…"

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched up into a smirk. He hadn't been the one to start the fire, but now that Roman mentioned it, that wasn't a bad idea. Maybe smoking Seth out was the best course of action. "Nah brotha, not this time. But that's not a bad idea. I'll keep it in mind."

"Roman! Roman!"

The three of them all turned at once to see AJ Lee racing across the grass toward them, her brown hair flying out behind her. To their surprise, there were tears rolling down her cheeks. "Roman! Oh my god, you won't believe what I just witnessed," she sobbed. "Sasha, she...she…"

The Black Widow broke into wordless sobs before she could finish her sentence, and much to Dean's surprise and disgust she fell into his chest, clinging to his shirt. He held her at arm's length, unnerved by the cries and whimpers that were falling from her lips. He heard Emma giggle beside him, and even though the sound made his heart skip a beat, he wasn't willing to let AJ Lee cry on his shoulder just to hear it more.

"Where's Sasha?!" Roman shouted, suddenly looking panicked. "I need to know!"

AJ looked at him, her eyes ringed with smeared mascara. "I think she's in the...either the locker room or the bathroom. Somewhere over there," she hiccuped.

Roman took off running without another word, flying over the grass and cement until he reached the front doors. He yanked them open and disappeared into the thick black smoke that came pouring out.

"Is he insane?!" Dean snapped, pushing AJ away and staring in disbelief at the burning building. Goddamn him for always wanting to play the hero!

Emma grabbed onto him, her fingernails digging painfully into his arm. "What if he doesn't come back?" she whispered, her face pale.

Dean shook his head. "He'll come back," he rasped, his eyes still fixed on the building. "It's Roman. He'll come back. He always comes ba-"

_Boom!_

The building exploded suddenly, throwing them all to the ground. Dean looked up from where he was sprawled on his stomach, squinting against the brightness of the flames. He couldn't see anything, and his breath hitched in his throat.

He had just lost one best friend. He couldn't lose another one.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The alcohol burned going down his throat, but it was the best thing Dean had felt in a long time. It made him feel alive, at least for a few hours until he crashed and burned. He pressed his lips together to stop a maniacal laugh from spilling from his mouth. Those two words probably weren't the best to use in light of the current situation.

It had been a week since the arena had burned to the ground. There was nothing left but ashes and a foundation, along with a whole lot of unanswered questions. Roman had managed to make it out of the building with Sasha in the nick of time, but it had been an extremely close call, and Trips and Steph had been furious. It was not a good time to be on the Authority's shit list, but unfortunately a lot of them were. Hunter and Stephanie had already held a press conference vowing to find the culprit, and word going around was that they had hired people to do some digging. No one had any idea what might happen next, and that meant that everyone was on edge.

Dean swallowed his third shot of whiskey and slammed the glass down on the counter before eyeing the bartender, a stocky man with a balding head and a ruddy face. The man glanced from Dean to the empty glass and back again before letting out a sigh and refilling the glass. It was obvious that he disapproved of how much Dean was drinking, but the money was too much to resist.

He had just lifted the glass to his lips when a very familiar voice drifted to his ears from a TV in the corner.

"_Thank you for coming out here today."_

Dean slowly swung his barstool around to glance at the screen. Hunter stood in front of a podium at what looked to be another press conference, a thick stack of notecards in his hands. Stephanie was by his side, looking even more somber than she usually did, and Dean could detect a look of cold fury in her eyes. Completely uninterested in anything the duo had to say, the Lunatic Fringe twisted back around in his seat and reached for his glass of whiskey again.

"_My wife and I were on vacation, but our detective agencies who we've hired to investigate have been doing some diligent work on our behalf and have made some interesting discoveries that we felt needed to be addressed today. I can now confirm that we have a list of suspects that we'd like to and shall be investigating shortly."_

Dean rolled his eyes. They were probably bluffing in order to save face in front of the public. This person had clearly gone to great lengths to conceal their identity, so no half-assed detective team was going to find them.

Stephanie's voice suddenly emanated from the TV, indicating that Hunter had handed her the mic. "_These are some of the suspects that we'll be speaking with very soon. The first suspect is Dean Ambrose."_

The bar seemed to tilt at an odd angle, and Dean shot out a hand to steady himself, effectively knocking over the glass and spilling whiskey everywhere. As the bartender rushed to clean up the spill, he spun on his stool to stare dumbly at the pixelated faces of Hunter and Stephanie on the TV screen.

"_Mr. Ambrose has a very rich history of being dark and violent, and due to his...benevolent nature with the Authority, he's definitely capable of an atrocity of this nature."_

They continued to speak, but he couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. He pushed himself up and away from the bar, stumbling to the door and falling out into the stifling summer heat. He could hear the bartender shouting, but he scrambled to his feet and took off running down the street. Faces blurred and melted together around him until the only thing he became aware of was the pounding of his feet against the pavement and the harsh rasp of his breath in his throat.

When he came back to himself, he was standing in the lobby of the hotel that the roster was staying in, ten blocks away from the bar he had been in. He was drenched in sweat and his chest heaved, and he realized that the strong stench of alcohol clung to him like a plague. Remembering that he was now being hunted, his eyes darted feverishly around the lobby, searching for anyone who might give up his location. When he didn't see anyone, he speed-walked to the elevator and slipped inside. His fingers reached out of their own accord and pressed a button, and as the red numbers began to climb, he leaned back against the mirrored wall of the car and attempted to calm himself.

The Authority had plastered a bright red target on his back, that much was certain. What he didn't know was who had it out for him, and who stood to gain from giving him up. There were the obvious enemies, such as Seth Rollins, Randy Orton, and Kane, but there were also the people who would turn him in simply to elevate their own careers, and there was no way of knowing who those people were. Everyone was a suspect, and he could feel his paranoia growing by the second.

The elevator let out a loud dinging noise as it reached its designated level, causing him to jump about a foot. The doors slid silently open, and he crept to the doorway and peered out. Once he had confirmed that the hallway was clear, he stepped out, prepared to be jumped at any second.

His feet carried him down the hall until he reached the door at the very end. He didn't recognize the room number, but figured he must have come here for a reason. He took a few steps back after rapping on the door, instinctively twisting himself so that he was facing the nearest exit.

The door swung open after a pause, and Dean found himself face-to-face with Natalya. They stared at each other for a few seconds, both of them equally confused, until the Canadian Diva's face twisted in disgust. "What are _you _doing here?"

The way she spoke, as if he had just kicked one of her stupid cats, brought searing anger boiling to the service. "The hell if I know. It's not like I came to see your mannish face."

"Dean?"

That familiar accented voice made him freeze, and he subconsciously straightened his shoulders as Natalya was pushed unceremoniously aside by Emma. Those clear blue eyes fixed on his face, and he felt something crack inside.

Emma's eyebrows drew together in concern and confusion when he didn't respond. "What's wrong? Are you alright? You look horrible…" She took a few steps forward, stretching out a hand toward his face.

Dean's mind flashed back to the sick thud Emma's head had made when she had been thrown into the wall by Randy, and he quickly backed away before she had a chance to touch him. "I have to go," he rasped, continuing to back away but keeping his gaze fixed on her. If he was going to do this to her, then the least he could do was look at her face.

"What? What are you talking about?" Emma asked, a look of hurt surfacing in the aqua depths of her eyes. "Dean, tell me what's going on."

He shook his head vigorously, trying to ignore the agonizing pain in his chest. He slammed down his walls, shutting out the hurt and the misery. This was something that had to be done, for her own sake. He was going down in flames, and he refused to drag her down with him. If ever he did anything good in his life, then this would be it. "Don't follow me," he told her.

The realization of what was happening dawned on the Australian, and she took a few more steps forward, her hands stretched out toward him and her mouth opening.

"I'm sorry," he said before she could speak, and then he whipped around and took off down the hallway.

"Dean! No!"

The pleading in her voice nearly made him crumble, but he made it into the elevator and slammed the button for the lobby. He looked up as the doors slid closed, just in time to see Emma running down the hallway toward him, a heartbroken look on her face.

Then the doors shut, and he was left staring at his own reflection in the steel.

Dean moved backward until his back struck the wall, and he slid slowly down until he was sitting on the floor, his entire body trembling. He lifted his hands to his face and dug his short fingernails into his skin, drawing blood as a ragged scream tore its way out of his throat. It was a primal sound, full of agony and rage. The cry of an animal with its leg caught in a trap and no way out but to chew it off.

When the elevator doors opened into the lobby, Dean was on his feet, blood trickling down his face from half-moon-shaped grooves in his cheeks and forehead. Some dark thing had escaped from its cage deep inside of him and now writhed in his chest, growing and growing. The hatred flared, and he allowed it to burn up the little piece of Emma that he carried with him, the piece that still carried some hope. Unfortunately hope was a fragile thing, and easily broken.

From now on the only thing he knew was vengeance.

Slowly he pulled his hood up, shielding his face from any curious onlookers, and walked out of the hotel. From there he crossed the street to a gun store, and when he emerged fifteen minutes later, he carried with him the instrument of his revenge.


End file.
